


darkness as it turns into light

by youhaventyet



Category: Harry Potter - J. K. Rowling, No. 6 - All Media Types
Genre: Alternate Universe - Hogwarts, M/M, Non-binary character, smooches
Language: English
Status: Completed
Published: 2014-01-28
Updated: 2014-01-28
Packaged: 2018-01-10 09:09:09
Rating: Teen And Up Audiences
Warnings: Creator Chose Not To Use Archive Warnings
Chapters: 1
Words: 5,789
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/1157823
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/youhaventyet/pseuds/youhaventyet
Summary: <blockquote class="userstuff">
              <p>Safu always says Nezumi appositely asked the Sorting Hat to put him into Slytherin, to better uphold his bad boy looks and his look-at-me-in-the-wrong-way-and-I-will-take-your-eyes-out attitude. Most of the time, Shion can’t but agree.</p>
            </blockquote>





	darkness as it turns into light

**Author's Note:**

> I just wanted to write about Slytherin Nezumi and then the whole plot ran away from me.  
>  **English is not my first language ******so, you know, if you'd like to fix some of the mistakes I've surely made, you'd be very welcome.

Shion finds Nezumi sprawled under a bush near the Great Lake, long legs giving away his hiding spot: the toes of his boots are peeking out from under his robes and the green leaves.

“What are you doing here?” Shion asks, voice reproachful, when he’s near enough he’s standing over him, covering him with his shadow.

Nezumi cracks one of his eyes open, expression still relaxed as if he’d heard him coming from miles away, the smallest frown between his eyebrows because Shion’s shielding him from the sun. “What are _you_ doing, mister prefect.” His voice is lazy, and doesn’t lilt in question. He looks bored, which is kind of a standard Nezumi look.

“I have a free hour. Don’t you have Potions, though?” Shion drops his rucksack to the ground and props his hands on his hips, trying to look as intimidating as Safu does when she’s telling someone off.

It doesn’t work. Nezumi just smirks. “What a creepy guy. Did you learn my schedule by heart?”

“I’ve got all of my friends’ schedules memorized.”

This makes Nezumi growl. He always gets cranky when Shion acknowledges their relationship, as if being friends with a Ravenclaw - as if being friends with anyone, really - somehow damages his _street cred_ , or something. It’s not even a Slytherin thing - just a Nezumi thing. He’s defensive to the point of idiocy, Safu says. Shion can’t really disagree with her.

“Besides,” he sighs,” I should take some points from you for skipping class, you know.”

Nezumi’s grumpy expression melts into an amused one. He’s got his cocky smirk in place, too, which makes Shion’s cheeks flush. He does his best to hide it, but he’s ridiculously pale, as Nezumi’s so fond of reminding him, so he can’t do much. Can’t even tell himself he’s blushing because he’s angry, really: contrary to Nezumi, Shion isn’t good at hiding things - not even from himself - and, more importantly, doesn’t feel any reason to.

“You should,” Nezumi agrees, condescending expression still in place. He quirks an eyebrow, looking at him square in the eyes.

“I should,” Shion repeats. Then he sighs again. “But I won’t.”

Nezumi grins and opens his mouth as if to make a smug comment, but in the end just grumbles, almost happily, shrugging his shoulders. He wiggles a bit to the left, still managing to look graceful, all long limbs and olive skin in contrast with the black of his robes; ostensibly to get out of Shion’s shadow and go back to sunbathing, but Shion knows better.

They’ve known each other for six years, and learning Nezumi’s language, made out of brusque gestures and confusing words, walls up 24/7 and wand always in hand, has come natural to Shion, who is far too cleaver for his own good, and a natural in almost everything he tries - unless it’s Physical Education; but that, thankfully, isn’t one of Hogwarts’ subjects.

So, when Nezumi makes space, he plops down in it and sighs, his pout quickly melting into a smile. He stretches a bit, pointing his toes and rising his arms above his head, all the while feeling Nezumi eyeing him in a way that would probably appear subtle to anyone, but that is glaringly obvious to Shion.

Predictably, when he starts to take his books out of his rucksack - he has Ancient Runes next hour, which is his favourite subject but also a very difficult one - Nezumi starts to talk, just like a jealous child claiming all the attention back to himself.

“It was just too good of a day to waste it in the Dungeons, y’know.”

“Will you even bother going to _any_ of your classes, today?” Shion rolls his eyes, cracking the textbook open where the bookmark sticks out. He doesn’t have to look to see Nezumi’s disgruntled expression.

“What if I don’t? Hey, Shion.”

“Mh?”

“Shion.”

In the end, he turns just to see Nezumi’s annoyed face. It’s there as he was expecting, priceless as always, low-knit brows and angry tilt to his mouth. Shion rises one of his eyebrows, innocently.

“Have lunch with me and maybe I won’t skip the others.” He’s turned on his side, elbow pointed on the ground and hand on his cheek to support his head, his nasty smirk on and eyes sharp, trained on Shion.

“What are you, a little kid? Skipping class only to get my attention?” He grabs one of the bangs that have fallen out of Nezumi’s ponytail and tugs at it a little, playful. It’s warm from the sun. He feels something like a knot form in his throat, chocking him up a bit. His voice comes out softer when he speaks again. “You could’ve just asked. I would’ve said yes anyway.”

Nezumi looks dumbstruck for a moment, eyes widening - Shion, who has trained himself to look for these reactions, feels the thing in his throat flutter - before Nezumi moves his head just a bit, and he’s vigilant again. He hisses between his teeth, grabs Shion’s tie and pulls him down with a rough tug, his other hand going to cover Shion’s mouth and muffle his surprised yelp.

He ends up sprawled under the bush, scowling at him from behind the palm that’s still covering half of his face.

“Rikiga’s here,” Nezumi hisses, tugging Shion closer with the hand still clutching at his tie. “He would come to dote on you, that old pervert, and find _me_.”

Shion nods, and then, after a bit, looks pointedly at Nezumi’s hand, still on his mouth and chocking him a little. Nezumi moves it, only to rest it on his cheek, as if keeping him pinned to the ground. In actuality, though, he isn’t even pressing down. They both pretend not to acknowledge it as he follows Rikiga’s movements, his head barely raised, predatory expression on his face.

It’s always like this. Nezumi often skips class, he didn’t try out for the Slytherin Quidditch team just because “flying after balls is a stupid waste of time”, he hexes teachers as much as other students when they annoy him, and he was the first one in the history of Hogwarts to refuse the position as a prefect because he is “pro rule-breaking”.

But he’s got this animal instinct. Magic never looks like a struggle when he’s the one doing it, and he can pick up any spell before it’s even explained to him; furthermore, he reacts faster than everybody in any situation, baring his teeth and whipping his wand; and he looks so untouchable, too quick to be caught.

Shion is book-smart, Safu is _practically perfect in every way_ , but in case of emergency, Nezumi would be the ready one. It probably comes from having his parents killed during the War; or maybe it’s just part of his DNA, like some kind of extraordinary, yet undiscovered chromosome Shion just wants to study.

Crack Nezumi’s walls, take a peek on the inside. Mix magic with the muggle science Shion grew up with, and with the feelings Nezumi is so squeamish about.

Rikiga must have left, because Nezumi slinks down again, propping his head on his bent elbow, looking at Shion with what, on his face, passes as a reassuring smile. His fingers linger on his cheek for a moment, before he takes them away in a barely-there caress, The tie around Shion’s neck must have come loose, because Nezumi’s eyes follow the pattern of Shion’s scar, from his cheek to his throat, lingering there.

Nezumi isn’t wearing s tie at all. 

Just when he’s about to say something, they both hear the bell ring from inside the castle. Shion sits up, Nezumi’s gaze turning disappointed, and smiles.

“Meet you at lunch, then,” he says, gathering his books and messily shoving them in his rucksack. Before he can think about it, he bends down and places a kiss on Nezumi’s cheek, feeling it warm under his lips.

“I didn’t promise I would go to my other classes,” Nezumi reminds him, childish, after two false starts.

“Yeah, yeah,” Shion waves him off, standing up, sliding his bag on his shoulder and brushing off his robes, tightening his tie while looking at Nezumi’s face. His mouth is curved in what looks like an involuntary smile. Shion smiles back. “See you.”

 

During their third year, a swarm of hexed bees somehow got out of the Department for the Regulation and Control of Magical Creatures and caused a number of deaths all around Great Britain.

Somehow, the bees got spelled into them the instinct of depositing their eggs under human’s skin. The egg would feed on a witch or wizard’s magic, and then on their lives, killing them when it turned into a larvae. Shion had been scared and fascinated at the same time; Nezumi had called him an idiot and slapped the back of his head with an angry scowl.

At Hogwarts, two people got infected. The first one died. The second was Shion. Nezumi was the one who saved him.

He found Shion in the boys’ bathroom, after the end of classes, gripping at a sink, sweaty and nauseated. His magic had been weak all day long, and he’d told Safu to go on and have dinner without him, because he wasn’t feeling well.

“What the hell are you-” Nezumi had started, only to stop with a sudden intake of breath. “Shion,” he said, his voice smooth, tone strangely intense.

“What…”

“You have one of those things in your neck.”

He didn’t need to ask what he was talking about. He looked at Nezumi’s reflection in the mirror, his face pale and determined. Then he grabbed at his arm and started to haul him across the corridors.

“The hospital wing is in the other direction-”

“Too far,” Nezumi cut him off. “We’re closer to my common room.”

“I’m not allowed-”

“Shut up, you’re dying,” Nezumi’s voice held such an angry edge, Shion didn’t dare say anything else. He was feeling too weak anyway; so much he didn’t even understand the password Nezumi muttered when they got to the Slytherin Dungeon.

The common room was empty, everybody still having dinner in the Great Hall. The green of the tapestries, and the green-coloured light filtering through the lake’s water muddled his mind even more than it already was. Nezumi shoved him into his dormitory and then on his bed.

From then on, Shion doesn’t remember much: just green, Nezumi’s smell on the pillow, the sight of Nezumi’s hands, dirty with his blood; and he remembers the weight of Nezumi sitting on his back, holding him down, and the excruciating pain of Nezumi’s wand cutting into his skin with a purple glow.

They were thirteen, Nezumi laughed meanly whenever Shion called him his friend, but not even for a moment he doubted he was going to save him.

He knows Nezumi called his name a few times, his voice almost broken; and, when he was done, the bee’s egg out of his skin, Nezumi had taken off his green tie and wrapped it around Shion’s neck, tight, to stop the bleeding.

“I’m taking you to the hospital wing now,” he breathed, as if he’d run a marathon and was catching his breath. “You need to get up, Shion.”

“Okay,” Shion murmured.

“You’ll be fine,” Nezumi added, stroking a hand through his hair. Shion thought, in a sudden flash of clarity, that somebody was going to have to wash blood out of it. Nezumi got off of him, helping him get up as well. “You’ll be fine,” he repeated.

“I trust you,” Shion said, no doubt making Nezumi angry. But he doesn’t remember if he answered something, and the only memory he has from then on is  Nezumi’s warmth soaking through Shion’s cold, sweaty skin, and he thinks he passed out as he was being carried to the hospital wing.

He woke up with his hair white and a snake-like scar winding all around his body.

For a few days, Shion had to take Magi-Me-More pills to reintegrate the magic the bee’s egg had sucked out of him, and Blood-Replenishing potion because of the blood loss; but nothing, Madam Pomfrey told him with an apologetic expression, could erase his scar or make the pigment come back to his hair.

Safu shouted at him for making her worried sick when she went to see him, but calmed down right after her outburst, telling him that the whole school knew about what Nezumi had done, which had made him sulky and insufferable, as if doing a good thing for someone was something to be ashamed about. “Madam Pomfrey scolded him, too,” she added. “Because he didn’t take you to her right away. But then she also told him that he’d done good, because otherwise you wouldn’t have survived. And guess what the brat told her?”

Shion waited for her to go on, patiently.

“He said _I know_. Can you believe him!” She sighed and picked at her robe, making an aggravated expression. “I owe him, though. He saved you.”

“Are you gonna be kinder to him, then?” Shion asked, smiling, at which Safu squawked indignantly. She’d always had a stand-offish relationship with Nezumi.

Who didn’t show up until much later. So late, in fact, that it was night, and the infirmary’s door should have been locked. Shion didn’t now what woke him up, but suddenly he was wide awake, Nezumi perched cross-legged at the foot of his bed, tapping his wand on his knee, lumos charm washing his face in a pale blue light.

“What are you doing here?” Shion asked, groggy, rubbing his eyes.

“Checking up on you,” Nezumi sneered, as if wanting to be sarcastic, when really, Shion didn’t see any other reason to show up in the middle of the night. “Your hair’s still white, mh?”

Shion felt suddenly self-conscious, scratching the back of his neck with an apologetic expression. “Yes, apparently there’s no cure for it - of course, I could dye it, and maybe cover up the scar-”

In a flash, Nezumi was on him, the wand still in his hand illuminating the hard set of his mouth. His thighs bracketing his legs and his face close to his, he touched his fingers to the scar on Shion’s cheek and shook his head. “There’s no need to cover it up,” he said, ignoring the hitch in Shion’s breath. “They’re pretty cool, you know. I’m kind of envious.” He wrinkled his nose, a bit of a reminder of his name’s meaning. Shion couldn’t hold back a grin, at that. Nezumi curved his mouth in a fleeting reply, before his expression went back to serious. “They’re beautiful. They mean you survived.”

And Shion had known, as an abstract thing, that he was drawn to Nezumi. He’d been since the first time he’d seen him, on Platform Nine and Three Quarters, on his own except for the pet rat on his shoulder, and he’d looked… not small, not lost, just… so alone, and angry, defensive like a wounded animal.

Shion had known he was drawn to Nezumi, but in that moment, for the first time, he felt it like a punch in the gut; the unwavering gaze of those pale eyes set on his face, the memory of Nezumi’s hands on his body, keeping him still as he cut through his flesh.

He sucked in an unsteady breath and dropped his forehead to Nezumi’s shoulder. He felt him stiffen, but neither of them moved away from each other.

That night, Nezumi slept with him in his cramped bed, shoving his legs between Shion’s and holding his hand throughout his nightmare-fueled fidgeting and kicking.

 

Something Nezumi doesn’t know about the time he saved his life: Madam Pomfrey didn’t throw away Nezumi’s tie, after she took it off from Shion’s neck. She washed the blood off of it, instead, and left it on the bedside table near Shion’s bed, as if thinking he would give it back as a token of his gratitude, or something.

That had been Shion’s plan, too, only… he ended up putting the tie under his pillow, in the infirmary, and then he kind of just kept it, bringing it in his dormitory and hiding it under his pillow once again, waking up every morning with his hand numb from having slept on it, and his fingers tangled into the strip of green cloth.

And when he went back home for summer vacation, he would wear the tie around his wrist like an armband, brushing his fingers against it whenever he thought of Nezumi, alone, god-knows-where, under the pale british sun.

 

He eats at the Slytherin table for lunch, as he promised Nezumi. He receives a few looks because of the blue in his uniform, but nobody comments: one, because it’s happened before, and two, because Nezumi’s well known and also respected.

“Somehow,” mutters Safu, before going to sit at the Ravenclaw table.

Nezumi, who’s already sitting near Inukashi, smiles when he sees Shion, which is such a rare sight he feels the thing in his throat flutter. Inukashi scoffs, feeding their dog a piece of sausage. “You’re going soft, Rat,” they say, before Nezumi shuts them up with a shove and a scowl.

“Good morning. Did your lazying around go well?” Shion asks, sitting at Nezumi’s left and filling the plate that appeared in front of him with a set of clean cutlery and napkin.

Nezumi grunts. “I went to Defense, in the end,” he says grudgingly, and his scowl deepens when Shion smiles at him, so big and bright it probably looks a bit ridiculous.

“He sat there and hexed Yoming to make him drop his wand whenever he tried to demonstrate a spell,” Inukashi rolls their eyes, while stuffing their face of pudding.

Shion’s smile fades as he sighs, long-suffering.

“It’s not my fault if I’m frustrated I have to be taught by such an incompetent idiot,” Nezumi says, merrily digging into his soup. He smiles at Shion again; not the small, pleased smile from before, but his aggressive, smug smirk.

Safu always says Nezumi appositely asked the Sorting Hat to put him into Slytherin, to better uphold his bad boy looks and his look-at-me-in-the-wrong-way-and-I-will-take-your-eyes-out attitude. Most of the time, Shion can’t but agree.

“You’re such a little bitch,” Inukashi says, shaking their head as they get up, feeding their dog a last piece of sausage. “Since you’ve already decided to go down that path, might as well ask him about Hogsmeade, too,” they add, before taking off, tossing their long hair.

Nezumi mutters an insult as he glares daggers in their back.

“Oh, did they announce Hogsmeade’s visit date?” Shion asks, keeping on his oblivious mask and good-natured smile. “Safu will be happy.”

“Are you gonna go with her to Madam Puddifoot’s Tea Shop?” Nezumi asks, his voice going feminine and high-pitched.

Shion just looks at him, unimpressed. It’s a technique Inukashi taught him once, during a shared lesson of Care of Magical Creatures.

“When they’re being nasty,” Inukashi said, stroking a Crup’s back, “just make sure they’re looking at you, and then make this face.” They whistled at the Crup growling at Shion; when it looked at them, they stared it down with a arched eyebrow and a mocking tilt to their lips. The Crup’s fur lowered and it didn’t object when Shion tried to pet it again.

It’s a technique that  works on Nezumi, too. If he knew where he’d learned it, he would probably hex himself. And then, since Nezumi is an idiot who didn’t even try to take advantage of the attempt Shion had made to change topic of conversation _for his sake_ , Shion says: “No, I’m not, but I thought _you_ wanted to invite _me_.” He takes a bite out of his baked potato, as if he hadn’t just dropped a bomb on their peaceful lunch.

Nezumi makes the face of a person who’s received an unexpected punch in the gut, and then his whole demeanor shifts. “Don’t make me hex you, Shion,” he says, his voice low, wand in his hand.

He carefully puts down his fork, cleans his mouth with his napkin, and turns to look at him. “You won’t hex me,” he says, and gets up from the bench, looking at Nezumi  from his standing position. “And you should go to your afternoon classes, or I really am gonna take your points away, this time,”

He leaves without waiting for an answer, Nezumi still sitting with his lips pressed in a white line.

 

The next day, during breakfast, Safu laughs at the both of them when Shion tells her about their lunch, while ignoring Nezumi as firmly as Nezumi is ignoring him, even if Shion’s pretty sure he saw one of his rats sneak around Ravenclaw Tower.

“Typical,” Safu sighs. “You know, Shion,” she adds, after he’s graciously let her chuckle to herself as she buttered up her toast. “I would go to Madam Puddifoot’s with you, if you asked.” She’s looking at him square in the eyes.

Shion feels himself blush. “Uhm, Safu, I…”

“It doesn’t matter,” she says, tone definitive, placing down her knife with a click. She holds her toast between two fingers while she talks, still looking at him and now smiling a bit. “Do you think I’m stupid?”

“O-of course not-”

“It’s quite obvious that you’re interested in only that one person,” she cuts him off, voice gentle. “And, to be honest, even if I do love you, I just want you to be happy. I’m just saying an outing just the two of us together would be nice.” She bites into her toast, then, as calmly as if they were discussing about the weather.

Shion is now very pink on the cheeks, and also feeling as someone is watching him. He clears his throat and looks down, at the now cold bacon in his plate. He cuts it up anyway, eating a piece before nodding. “Sure. It would be great.”

“Not this weekend, though,” she says, her tone back to practical. “I have an Arithmancy test on Monday, and _you_ have your date with Nezumi, if you two manage to get your heads out of the Vanishing Cabinet in time.” She eats up what’s left of her toast smugly, leaving Shion’s cheeks pinker than they were before as she collects her bag. “Are you finished? We have Herbology in the farthest glasshouse, we’ll be late if you don’t hurry up.”

“Y-yeah, sure!” he stuffs his face full of his leftover breakfast and hurries up after her, sparing a glance to the Slytherin table. Nezumi’s nowhere to be seen, but one of his rats his sitting in what’s usually his place, munching on a piece of bread.

 

That afternoon, they have their first Apparition class. Nezumi was excited about it, as much as Nezumi ever gets excited for anything, and it sits wrong with Shion that they’re not talking to each other, because one of Shion’s favourite past-times is to rile Nezumi up until he shows his emotions.

He sighs as he takes his place behind Safu, a wooden hoop on the ground between them. Nezumi is not very far from him, two students away on his right. He knows he will do well. Nezumi’s instinct is something to be marveled at, after all.

The instructor sent by the Ministry of Magic starts to talk, and Shion focuses on him. He listens to the explanation carefully, but still, when it’s time to try and apparate for the first time, he just twirls on himself, ending up exactly where he was before, a bit unstable on his feet. Nobody managed to apparate; Safu turns to give him a frown. Shion looks at Nezumi, and even though he can only see his back, he knows he’s scowling.

They try another time and then another. The instructor just smiles peacefully, telling them not to give up; “This is very advanced magic, it’s perfectly normal to be unsuccessful the first few times.”

But on the fourth time, a loud _crack!_ echoes through the Great Hall. Shion instinctively looks two students away on his right, because, even though he isn’t sure of the sound’s origin, who else could it be?

And sure enough, when he picks him out of the crowd, Nezumi is standing in his hoop, hair messy and arms held out, as if ready to jump or fly,

The instructor starts to clap, followed by the professors who stayed to check on the students, and then by some students themselves. Nezumi bows, like the egocentric brat he is, in all direction, and stops facing Shion. He probably wants it to look casual, but he knows all of Nezumi’s movements are deliberate.

Their eyes catch. They’re both smiling, Nezumi’s cheeks flushed pink from exertion, and his eyes so, so bright; Shion can’t even remember the reason he was angry with him in the first place.

That evening, though, while they’re coming back to the common room - he didn’t apparate, but Safu did; a gracious twirl of robes paired up with a smug smile - he feels a vague sadness he can’t name. He tells himself it’s nothing, but deep down, he knows it’s about Nezumi; about the easy way he could just disappear from his life one day, now that he knows how to, as if he never was there.

 

He wakes up with a too-sweet taste filling his mouth, confused and gasping. It takes him a moment to understand where he is, staring at the flames dying in the fireplace and blinking slowly. When he tries to move, his neck aches, and he realises he fell asleep on one of the love seats in the common room while doing his Transfiguration homework.

He stirs and rolls around to loosen up his muscles, until he hears a soft chuckle come from near the door. He tenses.

“You look like a sleepy kitten,” comes a mocking voice.

Shion goes boneless in the love seat. “How did you even get in?” he mumbles, squinting to see Nezumi in the darkness.

“As if your door’s riddles were so hard,” Nezumi scoffs, finally stepping into Shion’s line of vision. “Easy peasy,” he adds, coming to stand over him. He’s wearing his black shawl, which also doubles as a cloak, and he’s barefoot.

“You really did ask the Sorting Hat to put you into Slytherin, didn’t you? Just to indulge in your drama queen tendencies.”

“What if I did? It’s the house that fits me best,” Nezumi shrugs, movement so fluid Shion is left in awe for a moment. “Bunch of pricks,” he adds, with a grin, and he knows that’s the most of an apology he’s going to get.

 “At least you know how to redeem yourselves,” Shion comments, and presses against the back of the love seat, making himself small, and Nezumi knows his language, too. He plops down in the curve made by Shion’s body, knee bent under himself to keep on facing him.

He hums, tonelessly, and starts to play with the strings of Shion’s hoodie. He wraps one of them around his fingers and lets it slip through them a few times before Shion decides to speak.

“I was very proud of you when you apparated.” Saying it makes him think of Nezumi leaving, and even though his voice is even, low and sleepy as it is, the knot reappears in his throat: not a pleasant feeling, this time.

Something must be showing on his face, because Nezumi lets go of the string and puts his hand on his head, brushing his fingers through his hair. Shion always expects him to be rough, but he never is; his touches are soft, almost reverent. He feels his whole body grow warm, and knows Nezumi can probably feel it under the palm he’s now got on his cheek.

“It’s very unpleasant, apparating,” Nezumi says. “It feels claustrophobic. But yeah, the feeling you get when you land somewhere else is amazing, even if it’s just a few centimeters away.”

Shion wiggles back a little bit more, probably looking like a clumsy puppy compared to Nezumi’s graceful movements; but he just smiles, taking off his cloak. He’s wearing sweatpants and a worn tee; when he squeezes on the love seat with Shion and covers them both with his shawl, his scent is so overpowering he can’t smell anything else.

He’s got his legs tangled with Nezumi’s, their arms overlapping and chests only a few millimeters apart. Shion finds himself rubbing his face on the sleeve of Nezumi’s shirt, inhaling lungful after lungful of his smell - musk and burning firewood, and something green, like the scent that lingers near the Forbidden Forest after it rains.

Nezumi is cradling his head, fingers combing through the hair at the back of his neck; his other hand is on Shion’s chest, thumb pressing in the hollow of his throat, his scarred skin oversensitive even though it usually feels numb.

Shion worms his hand behind Nezumi’s head in turn and takes his hair band off, his hair falling all over his shoulders, and Shion promptly sinks his fingers into it.

Nezumi huffs,  half-amused half-annoyed. “It’ll get tangled.”

“Mh-mh, I’ll be careful about it.” And then, after a bit: “We’re breaking so many rules right now.”

Nezumi shrugs. “We’re rebels, we don’t need rules.”

“ _You’re_ a rebel, I’m a prefect.”

“You associate with me, though” He feels Nezumi’s mouth curl into a smile where it rests on his temple. “And,” he stutters a bit, then takes a deep breath and says, in an annoyed voice. “I heard what Safu said. About our ‘date’.” He doesn’t even need to make air quotes, his sarcastic tone implies them so well.

Shion endures it, because there’ll come a time when Nezumi won’t be a stunted boy, and he will talk about feelings like a functional person. Hopefully. Shion doesn’t even ask that much, really; if he just stopped squirming whenever they were brought up, he’d be pretty content as well. Also, if he’d stopped stalking him with his rats, it would be great.

“Mmh?” he prompts, after Nezumi’s stayed silent for a bit, just idly tracing the scar on his neck back and forth, the calloused pad of his thumb making his skin tingle.

“And I, I wouldn’t mind going to Hogsmeade with you, but I’d rather  stay at the castle and show you the secret passages and stuff. You know, just to make sure that, if the time comes, you’ll know where to go.”

“Stop being so ominous and admit you just want to take me to the secret place where you mack on people.”

Nezumi huffs again, tugging at his hair. “I would never,” he mutters. “You deserve your own place.”

“How romantic.”

“I learned from Shakespeare.”

“Mh-mh.”

“…Shion.”

“Yes?”

“I really mean it. Stay with me this weekend. I’ll show you around.” He’s speaking his annoyed tone again, as if offering already is too much of a chore, but Shion doesn’t believe him for a minute.

Nezumi’s language is made of lies, after all. He would be a good actor, Shion thinks. He would be more believable on a stage, too. “Okay,” he nods, his nose catching on a strand of Nezumi’s hair. He blows it away and then puts his forehead against the side of Nezumi’s neck, feeling him tense for a moment before he relaxes again with a sigh.

“Sleep now, though. ‘m tired,” Shion says.

He can feel Nezumi’s mouth in his hair before he falls asleep. He thinks he feels him kissing the crown of his head; but then again, maybe he’s wrong.

 

He wakes up with his back aching and his fingers tangled with someone elses’ instead of a strip of green cloth.

Everything is dark; there’s not even a spark in the fireplace, and the sky outside the windows is black, dotted with fading stars.

“…wha…?”

“Shh,” Nezumi shushes him, stroking a hand on his head, soothing. “It’s very, very early.”

“Wh’re ‘r you goin’…?”

“Sneaking out before anyone notices I sneaked in in the first place. You should go to bed, you still have some time before classes start.”

Shion turns his head in the darkness to look at Nezumi, blinking, and finds gray eyes staring at him, smiling even though his mouth is not. They’re very close. Shion’s breath whooshes out of him, a smile spreading on his lips.

“‘mkay,” he nods.

“Good,” Nezumi says, his voice amused. He caresses Shion’s cheek while he disentangles his other hand from his, and, still under his shawl, half-lying on the love seat, comes even closer to place a kiss on Shion’s other cheek, the unscarred one. Shion exhales noisily again, caught by surprise.

Nezumi makes to get up, but he flails an arm in his direction, catching some fabric - maybe his shirt. “Nezumi,” he says, voice suddenly clear, as if stopping him is the most important thing in the world.

“Yeah, yeah.”

“Come have breakfast at my table today. My mum shoul’ve…” he yawns. “My mum should’ve sent some pastries from the bakery.”

“Okay,” Nezumi says. “I’ll tell Inukashi, too.”

Shion nods, and this time he’s expecting it, when Nezumi kisses his cheek; the scarred one, this time, but not on the blemish: near the smiling corner of his mouth, instead. Shion turns his head towards him with a little noise, and Nezumi chuckles.

He gets up from the love seat.

“What’re you doin’ now?” Shion asks, his voice sleepy again.

“I’m gonna go fly for a bit,” Nezumi says. “To stretch out my muscles. This thing killed my back.”

“Mhh.”

Nezumi takes his shawl away, and Shion hisses at the loss of warmth, curling into a ball. Nezumi sniggers again, because he’s an inconsiderate brat. “Go to bed, Shion,” he murmurs.

“Mh-mh, I-” he yawns. “I’m going.”

Nezumi leans over him, hand propped on the back of the love seat, the curve of his arm outlined by faint light, and when he bends down, Shion is ready, turning his head right in time. Their lips clash together, and they both let out a breath: Nezumi’s startled, Shion’s satisfied.

“You sneaky airhead,” Nezumi mutters, almost angrily, before he presses their closed lips together once more, for just a moment longer, Shion’s hands in his hair - there’ll be tangles; Shion feels bad about it already. Then he straightens and leaves without so much as another word.

Shion listens to the soft snick of the door closing with a smile, before he gets up and crawls to his dormitory.

 

On Sunday morning, he wears the green tie around his wrist like an armband, before he goes to meet Nezumi in the Great Hall to have breakfast together.


End file.
